Breadcrumb #230

MORIAH SHIRES

All trains are running on the local track
Can I have a taste of what love should be, 
But probably never is?
French Rococo, his last cigarette
He lets me draw 

Eyes down, eyelashes soft
Melting folding disappearing into myself
Pretending he doesn’t know
Praying my pretense is reality
Pretending you aren’t in front of me
With your hood down, shoes off, let’s make this even

Mmmmm like an animal
Like eating your little brother’s birthday cake
Like an alien vomiting onto the earth
We devour each other
Biting and tearing, wishing you were him
And I was her
Our love is fake, a tragic remedy
An attempt to bandage an incurable wound
You and I are not enough

In spite of, despite, in addition to
A slice less indulgent than the whole
Trust me--I’ll take what I can take
Giving hurts
Work drinks. Work dinner. Work coffee.
Tinder date. Bumble fuck.
I hope you aren’t upset 

Time, the dimension of nonexistence
Click, tap, shhh
Minutes are hours
Click, tap, shh, shut the fuck up
Where is the subway?
Ocean eyes glaring into my soul, he knows
Whispers, click, tap, shhh, whispers, silence
Hell
Where do we go from here?
The E train is running on the express track
But I need the local train
I need a local love
I missed it
Where do I go from here?

• • •

Breadcrumb #229

RAINY HOVARTH

See hear, Blue Jay, you have startled me from my sleep!
What right have you to jar me from my recompense
this blissful slumber
free floating on a bed of velvet roses.

I was a bride of Thor
my long thick hair entangled with his steely sword
nude bodies sparkling in the sunshine
fat blonde babies laughing at my feet.

You destroyer of slumber
so jaunty in your disturbance
echoed now by all your brother birds, 
you pry me back from another world.

I will have none of this.
I have a cat you know, I’ll lose my Tom
he’ll eat you,
fragile bones crunching in the moonlight
dripping rivulets of blood
of dreams deferred and love left far behind.

• • •

Breadcrumb #227

CLAUDINE NASH

Stop. Now focus in
on the sense that rolls
from your lips.

Right there, between
those bands of static
interference, there,

between sips of
white wine sangria
and a broken stream
of words.

Now rewind. Look,
there’s your form
bathed in grey, pointing
at the clear and obvious
present.

Now take it frame
by frame until you
see that shadowy
trace that drifts from
my muscles.

See how it rises
and falls into the grainy
space between us?

The story we saw
but never spoke.

• • •

Breadcrumb #226

LAUREN SUCHENSKI

I decided that I wanted to feel it, 
but not for a long period of time.

Maybe 10 minutes, 9 years, 3 lifetimes
Maybe I’d salt the wound, just to be sure.
Maybe I’ll salt the ground, just to be sure (the steps, too - you can always slip
      in the winter)
you can always slip
But I’ve got places to be and
my heart is a lump that’s got fleshbones to sew
(holes in the seams and seems to be serious)

I decided that I wanted to know it,
but just 4 words and nothing more. Leave me at the paragraph
too daunting to read
I’ll roll up the paper - the fire needs kindling

I decided that I wanted to want it,
but I didn’t know how
anymore
to unravel it. 

• • •